


Trophy Wives Club, The

by westwingfanfictioncentral_archivist



Category: The West Wing
Genre: Episode Tag, Episode: s04e01-02 20 Hours in America
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2003-05-01
Updated: 2003-05-01
Packaged: 2019-05-31 06:14:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 628
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15113504
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/westwingfanfictioncentral_archivist/pseuds/westwingfanfictioncentral_archivist
Summary: "And this realization was followed by another: Not only did I not want to be a Hockey Wife...I didn't have any desire to be any kind of wife."





	Trophy Wives Club, The

**Author's Note:**

> A copy of this work was once archived at National Library, a part of the [ West Wing Fanfiction Central](https://fanlore.org/wiki/West_Wing_Fanfiction_Central), a West Wing fanfiction archive. More information about the Open Doors approved archive move can be found in the [announcement post](http://archiveofourown.org/admin_posts/8325).

**The Trophy Wives Club**  
**by:** Kasey

**Character(s):** Mallory  
**Category(s):** EP-RELATED: 20HiA  
**Rating:** TEEN  
**Disclaimer:** I don't own anyone you've seen on screen.  
**Summary:** "And this realization was followed by another: Not only did I not want to be a Hockey Wife...I didn't have any desire to be any kind of wife." 

I think the end of the relationship was partially because of an overload. News of moving halfway across the country, it turns out, should not be followed with a marriage proposal. In the end your brain just explodes. 

Which isn't usually good. 

I think the other part of it was the realization I had in the hours following that dinner filled with life-altering news. I was starting to drag boxes out of the back of the closet so I could start packing bit-by-bit to go to Chicago, and I found a few boxes I'd kept but never unpacked when I'd moved... well, I guess they hadn't been unpacked since I moved into Richard's, and then they traveled to New York and remained packed until I started looking in them. Mostly stuff from when I was a kid...things I'd rescued from the house when I was helping Dad move some of his stuff out of there and into the hotel... old school projects, that kind of thing. And it got me thinking... 

When I was seven years old, I vowed two things. One was that I would never drink, and the other was that I would *not* marry a politician. The reasoning behind the second resolution was, from what I'd seen of my parents who were my only real vision of marriage I had seen at that point, the women married to politicians were not only left alone so much of the time and moved around a lot depending on where the political men were running a campaign out of, but they spent a large portion of their time on their husband's arm, smiling prettily for the cameras - a perfect prize. 

A trophy wife. 

Which is not to say I didn't think my parents married because they were in love. But it was then the falling into roles that I didn't like. 

But so I started thinking - always bad, especially when your mind has exploded - about our section at games. 

By "our", I mean the 'wives, fiancees, and significant others' section. You've seen it on tv, they have it in any sport. That area with all the women in extravagant coats - usually some kind of fur - purchased with their man's million-odd dollar salary, who all sit together and fawn over their men. And the wives end up on camera, as do those who've just recently become engaged...not usually so much the girlfriends, so that was good for me, but even so. 

There are the unspoken rules: Smile nicely, try to look nonchalant in your thousand-dollar clothing, never look like you're having a lousy time even when it is almost 11 and you've got an early day the next day. 

Don't do or say anything negative that'll end up in the newspapers. 

Don't fraternize with the other team because we want to annihilate them. 

Don't get too used to living in one place. 

And not only is it a strange throw back to the 1950s in the way the wives are to dote upon their men, especially after a loss, but it's an uncanny return to my childhood and watching my parents. 

And this realization was followed by another: Not only did I not want to be a Hockey Wife...I didn't have any desire to be any kind of wife. 

Which left only a few questions, namely how to tell Richard and where to go when he wanted me out of the apartment. 


End file.
